


my darling, my muse

by ofoddsandends



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, poetic bullshit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-06 14:56:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15197219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofoddsandends/pseuds/ofoddsandends
Summary: sometimes nursey writes. more often than he’d like to admit, it’s about a red haired idiot.[a series of short poems written by derek nurse and totally not inspired by one william poindexter]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> started thinking about the fact that nursey is canonically a pretentious poetic weirdo and decided someone needed to cash in on that so Here I Am. this first one is barely poetry tbh just free verse bs but! that’s just how i write lmao

It seems ridiculous to say you’re akin to fire. too simple, too obvious. I thought initially that despite this it was fitting. In my inexperienced eyes, you were like fire; hot to the touch, angry and uncontrollable and out for destruction. I thought you might burn me if I got too close. Lick my ankles with white hot flames and engulf me before I even realized what was happening. Now I’m not so sure. The heat in your eyes is not scalding or dangerous, not even when we fight, throwing angry words with double edges, hoping something catches in the worst way. Even then, the heat behind your eyes is something entirely else. 

I think i’d describe it as warm, like the feeling that pools in my stomach when you smile at me from across the table, warm like the sun in Maine as it rises over your blue shuttered house, warm like your palm in my own, warm like the embarassed blush over your freckled cheeks after i press a kiss to them. First you were fire, furious and bright, briefly you became fall, something poetic i didn’t have words for. how can you describe such a shift? you’re sitting beside me now, half asleep, in your faded blue flannel, warm and familiar in a way that is entirely incomparable. Sometimes in life there are not metaphors or analogies or anything of the like. Sometimes you just are and that alone is enough to make me short for breath.


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> something regarding expectations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you’re surprised that i decided to commit and keep writing these ur not the only one buddy. this is??? vaguely poetic? tbh i equate poetic with sappy and i think that will help explain a lot of this series should it actually continue lol also this is unedited as shit so sorry for the spelling errors but it’s 1 am and i Don’t Care

Some days I deny expecting anything. To say you defied my expectations would be to admit that I had any. To hold preconceived notions of what it would be like to kiss you was a dangerous admission. And yet-

I imagined fury, intense with passion. The pot finally boiling over, turning the red flame blue. I imagined a calamitous crash, something finally being knocked so off kilter that maybe it made sense in the way it was always supposed to. I imagined fevered, frenzied, delirium like nothing else before, like nothing else ever again. Destruction that paved the way for a new foundation. 

I figured we could never be anything less. If I figured anything at all that is. And most days I’d contest that I did not. 

Here’s how it actually happened:

It was cold out and probably too late to be walking around but the party had carried on longer than either of us had planned. You were walking me to my dorm because I was “way too drunk” and we both ignored the fact that you knew I only had one beer. 

I was telling you about my cousin Brenda and her new job in the city and how oh, by the way, you should come visit this summer when you paused to look at me, serious all of a sudden in a way I had grown fond of despite myself. 

“Maybe I will,” you’d said and I blinked dumbly at you and asked you what you meant. You turned forward and walked ahead, kicked a bit of ice out of the way and shrugged in a way that was purposefully nonchalant, casual in a way that you never were, “Come visit. New York, I mean. You know, I’ve never been. You could show me around.”

It was dark out, nearly 3 am and I shouldn’t have been able to see your blush but it shined beneath the streetlights like a beacon. “Really?” I asked, because what else was there?

You nodded, out of words for the first time in your life and turned to face me so fast I was afraid you might fall over. You were close enough that I almost believed I could feel the warmth in your cheeks from where you stood, solid and sure. It was too much and not close to enough. 

“I’d like that,” i breathed out, barely audible in the still night and you leaned in to kiss me before the words had fully left my mouth, unbelievable soft and gentle in a way I had not thought you capable of. Gentle in a way I’d never witnessed, except-

Except. 

Except for the half smile you gave me when i cought your eye across the room. Except for the soft concern in your eyes when you woke me up in the morning for practice after I had worked too long into the night. Except for the open easiness of your laughter as we sat with Chowder up on the roof. Except for now as you pulled back, a gasp on your red red lips and amber in your eyes. 

Oh. Except for that.


End file.
